


Inside

by superagentwolf



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Mind Meld, Poly if you squint, Possibly Pre-Slash, Post-Star Trek Beyond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-18 05:15:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8150330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superagentwolf/pseuds/superagentwolf
Summary: * - Bones/Spock Remix of my previous story - *“May I take this moment to remind you that we are not authorized to enter this particular area of space, Captain?”Spock is right, as per usual, when he tells Jim it’s a bad idea to go to Sector 13. They're the crew of the Enterprise, though, so what kind of heroes would they be if they didn't explore the restricted area of space? Unfortunately, their foray results in Spock opening one-sided links with both Kirk and McCoy. The First Officer has trouble dealing with the connections and when he has an opportunity to disappear, Jim and Bones deal with the truth in their own peculiar ways.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Full Disclosure](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7772866) by [superagentwolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/superagentwolf/pseuds/superagentwolf). 



Bones is tired.

He’s not as tired as he was before, though.

 _I’m no spring chicken,_ he thinks to himself as he looks up at the shiny new hull of the _Enterprise._ He’s always halfway resented his age, the fact that he’s a generation older than most of the crew (more, in some cases) making him feel like the relics they search for sometimes.

He remembers easier times. Never quite happier, really, but easier. When he was first married. When he was a country doctor, when his days were filled with visits and the same faces he’d seen for years.

“Hey,” Jim says, suddenly at his side, smile bright and white. He has the same roguish look about him, as if he’s just stolen a car. “You ready to get back out there?”

“Oh, yeah,” Bones says sarcastically. “Ready to throw myself into the vacuum of space.”

Jim laughs because he knows Bones is only half-serious. The other half is relieved. He’s going back to the ship he knows; the crew he enjoys. Back to the job he was meant for.

“Come on up to the deck,” Jim invites. “One last wave to shore as we leave.”

Bones watches him go, spry and bursting with energy, and he wonders not for the first time how much longer he can do this.

* * *

 “Captain. We’re reaching the edge of Federation space.”

“Thank you, Ensign…”

“Rey, sir.”

“Rey.”

 _It’s going to be weird getting used to a new Navigator,_ Bones thinks. Chekov’s decision to move to another ship for experience was unexpected to say the least. He’d always kind of like the kid, even if the Russian was clueless sometimes. Bones respected good work, though, and he knew Chekov did good work.

“Jim, I’m not leaving,” Bones repeats, feet squared as he attempts to face off against his friend and Captain.

“I said I’d be there,” Jim says innocently, ignoring Bones in favor of watching space.

 _Like hell,_ Bones thinks to himself and he sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. _Three months out and already I’m having issues getting him into his checkup._

“Look-,” Bones begins, ready to threaten a tranquilizer on him, but Jim interrupts.

 “Wait- Spock. What is that?”

 _Huh,_ Bones thinks. The swirling mass of color seems to have appeared out of nowhere and he can’t shake the suspicion that maybe Jim’s overactive imagination and desire to escape the Doctor’s quarters have resulted in an anomaly. He wouldn’t put it past the man.

The first officer in question turns, an eyebrow quirked in a move Bones recognizes only as smug and Vulcan. The quirk of an alien that thinks it knows better than the silly humans surrounding it. Bones feels his skin itch.

 “Uncertain, Captain. The ship’s computers are reading it as an anomaly.”

Bones suppresses a smug grin. _For once he doesn’t know._

“Nothing? Sulu?”

“It doesn’t seem to be a supernova or any other kind of destructive force,” the man supplies, shaking his head as his fingers move over his screen.

“Captain- the area in question seems to be a restricted section of Federation space,” Rey says. “Sector Thirteen.”

“So it’s within bounds?”

Bones notices the girl blink. He thinks maybe she looks a bit irritated and he finds himself identifying with the poor kid, if only for a moment. _She’ll learn quick to get off this ship if she wants to live past twenty,_ Bones thinks.

 “No, sir. It’s a region deemed unsafe for travel. It is marked as a no-fly zone.”

Kirk rests his chin on his hand, watching the colors swirl. Bones already knows what’s coming.

“Let’s get a closer look.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Great,” Bones mutters. “I ain’t stickin’ around to get blown up, Jim.”

That’s what he says. He stays, though, because he has a sinking feeling that he’s going to be needed on the bridge.

“Does that look like a ship to you?” Jim murmurs, ignoring the jibe.

“It may be, Captain,” Spock submits. “However, it is hard to discern whether it is Starfleet or not.”

“Can we match the silhouette to known ships?”

“It is possible. I would like to remind you, however, that it is entirely possible for Starfleet ships to fall into enemy hands.”

Kirk taps his chin with a finger. _Damn Vulcan. He’s right,_ Bones thinks. It’s one of the few times he even remotely agrees with the First Officer. He finds himself wondering just what they’re getting themselves into and then Jim speaks, the inevitable phrase falling from his lips.

“Take us in.”

The bridge is silent for a fraction of a second. Most of the crew seem reasonably unsurprised. Bones can see Rey hesitating.

“May I take this moment to remind you that we are _not_ authorized to enter this particular area of space, Captain?” Spock says.

Bones casts the Vulcan a look. _Unnecessary,_ he thinks. _And annoying. He just can’t help himself._

 “Duly noted. Ensign.”

“…yes, Captain.”

As they reach the edge of the miasma, Bones squints. _A ship,_ he thinks. _Looks like Starfleet._ It’s old, though. Old enough that the warning bells start ringing in the back of his mind.

“There seem to be no signs of structural damage,” Spock says, gazing at an expanded image of the ship in question.

“Might be a relic, sir,” Sulu explains. “Federation sometimes spaces ships with unstable cores for detonation.”

“They have designated areas for those,” Kirk muses. “Why would they stick one here, on the edge of Federation space? Too risky. It could explode and cause a war.”

“Perhaps-,” Spock starts but he never gets to finish.

As they enter the miasma, the ship jolts. For a second, the _Enterprise_ drops in altitude. _There goes the other shoe,_ Bones thinks, feeling slightly nauseous before the lights shut off. _And damn if I wasn’t hoping it would be fine this time._

“Scotty,” Kirk says tightly. The comm is silent. “Scotty.”

“Captain, I think we’ve lost power,” Sulu says. He’s trying to bring up his holoscreen.

“Damnit,” Kirk curses, reaching for his personal communicator. “ _Scotty._ ”

“ _Captain!_ ”

The man’s voice is amplified and Kirk winces, moving the communicator away from his body. Bones chews the inside of his cheek, flipping his own communicator open. _No messages,_ he thinks. _Thankfully, no one’s injured. Yet._

“What’s going on down there?”

“ _We’ve lost power! I think it was an overload- whatever we passed through must have supercharged the core. It must have overheated._ ”

“Can you get us out of here?”

“ _We have to divert the extra power! I may be able to channel it to shields or weapons but they’ll be fried. We’ll be crippled for a short time._ ”

Kirk pauses, glancing at Spock. The half-Vulcan looks curiously green. It gives Bones pause.

“I suggest we divert to weapons, sir. We are close enough to a friendly port that we may be able to dock while repairs are made.”

“The shield or the sword,” Kirk murmurs, shaking his head. “Isn’t that classic?”

 _How romantic,_ Bones thinks with slight irritation.

“Jim, I hate to agree, but Spock’s right. We ain’t got the luxury of gambling on that ship being friendly.”

When Kirk glances at Bones a thousand emotions play across his face, anxiety and determination coming forward.

“ _Captain? We need to make a decision._ ”

“…divert to weapons, Scotty. Ensign Rey, you’ll have five seconds to get us out of here. Am I clear?”

“Crystal, Captain.”

“ _Diverting the power, Captain. When the lights return we’ll be ready to go!_ ”

Bones bites the inside of his cheek, anxious. He’s about to tell Jim he’s heading to the medbay when he sees Spock in his periphery, gripping his station tightly.

“Spock?”

The name escapes his mouth unbidden. Later, he wonders why he said anything, questions whether it was his medical training or perhaps something else. Before he can speak again, he sees the First Officer slump to the ground, hands pressed to his head.

“Spock!”

The bridge turns almost in unison as Kirk calls the Vulcan’s name, barreling off his chair and towards Spock.

Bones follows close behind, heartbeat mounting as he reaches for his tricorder.

“Get back,” he barks immediately, training kicking in.

“Spock? Come on,” Kirk mutters and Bones turns the Vulcan sideways.

Bones is almost frozen by the expression of utter pain he sees. Somewhere in the back of his mind he hears an echo of _Vulcans can’t feel_ and then it disappears, replaced by the sudden realization that Spock is obviously in immense pain.

There’s a sudden jolt and the lights immediately return.

“Rey!” Kirk roars. Bones can already feel the ship accelerating at a dangerous rate.

Spock suddenly turns on the floor, hands falling to the ground as his pained expression collapses. Kirk’s hand on his shoulder prompts him to move and the doctor holds his tricorder out, a hand supporting Spock’s head as he scans.

“What the hell happened?”

* * *

 

It starts as a buzz in his mind. He dismisses it, attributing it to disorientation from the ship’s bizarre drop.

After a minute, it doesn’t go away and in fact, gets worse.

Spock finds himself wondering distantly what the feeling is when he answers Jim. He notices the captain’s eyes linger on him for a moment and he wishes things were not always like this. One of them trapped on the other side of a glass wall. He’s shocked when he feels _worry_ flood into him and he knows it is not his.

The sharp burn eventually reaches a crescendo and when Jim turns again, Spock cannot contain the pain he feels. He slides to the floor, hands on his head because suddenly everything is _too close_ and there’s a cloud of _worry shock curiosity_ surrounding him. Every color is blinding and every sound is like a sonic boom, shattering his ears and disassembling his mind.

Even as he feels himself slipping, he concentrates on staying silent. He doesn’t want Jim to worry so he bites his tongue and falls into the comfort of unconsciousness.

* * *

Spock comes to the realization that he is suddenly awake after having been dead to the world.

 _Hm,_ he thinks. The phrase is not his. It is very…human.

The wave of worry and relief, mingled in odd balance, is also not his.

He worries for a second what that might mean.

“I think he’s going to be fine, Jim.”

“What happened to him?”

“I’m not sure. Vulcan biology is damn complicated. I may have to rely on what he tells me.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter. I’m not letting him leave medbay until we know what’s wrong.”

Spock considers feigning sleep to avoid questioning, noting that he has the beginnings of a headache. It is unpleasant. He reminds himself, however, that comfort takes second place to duty.

“I apologize, Captain,” Spock begins. His voice sounds hoarse to his own ears. He does not recall screaming but his throat seems to suggest otherwise.

As he opens his eyes, Spock watches Jim and McCoy’s faces float into sharp focus, lines of stress smoothing from their faces.

“Jesus, Spock, I thought you were dying,” Jim exhales, shoulders sinking as he leans on his hands at the foot of Spock’s bed.

The worry and relief comes again. Spock begins to question where it is coming from.

He has trained since childhood to control his power. All Vulcan children receive training in order to control the potential of their minds and link with others safely. He, being half-human, had received almost twice the training. If he is truthful, he would say he regards himself as above-average in controlling both the famed nerve-pinch and mental transference.

“I am quite alive,” Spock replies, vaguely distracted. _It cannot be them. We have no physical contact_.

To be sure, Spock glances at Kirk and McCoy, watching their hands. _No physical contact,_ he thinks again.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” McCoy says, eyes sweeping his patient. “We still don’t know what the hell happened.”

Agitation and anxiety flood Spock and he blinks, swallowing.

“Spock, what happened?” Jim asks.

“…I do not know, Captain.”

“Is it internal? Some kind ‘a Vulcan illness?” McCoy asks. His accent is heightened.

“I do not believe so,” Spock begins carefully.

 _If I tell Jim what I think, he will feel guilty,_ Spock thinks.

“Well, when did the pain start? What _exactly_ were your symptoms?”

“…it started when we entered Sector Thirteen,” Spock says reluctantly. He feels the immediate rush of guilt hit him like a brick wall. “Captain, it is _not_ your fault.”

“I-,” Jim starts but McCoy interrupts him, shaking his head.

Spock can feel mingled relief and something else- a strange, half-reluctant appreciation.

“Damn straight. Vulcan biology is ridiculous. Could ‘a been anything. Now, symptoms.”

“I felt immediate nausea,” Spock says, still looking at Jim. The man looks only vaguely less distraught. “This was followed by a sense of spatial disorientation that resolved itself quickly.”

“So you were carsick,” McCoy says shortly.

Spock is silent for a moment and he can see Jim’s hands flexing anxiously on the bedframe even as he tries to contain a small smile.

“…in my experience, Doctor, ‘ _car_ sickness’ is neither a legitimate medical illness nor capable of rendering one unconscious.”

“May I remind you that _I_ am the doctor here?” McCoy quips.

Spock watches Jim relax a bit. _Routine,_ Spock thinks. _Maintaining ‘normality’ is…comforting to humans in stressful times._

“In the absence of any compelling evidence that I am unwell, I would like to return to my duties, Captain.”

There is a strong sense of agitation again mingled with odd reluctance. Spock is starting to think the agitation belongs to Dr. McCoy. He is not overly surprised.

Jim hesitates for a second, glancing away. Spock waits.

“ _Any_ sign that something is wrong, Spock, I want you back here and in that bed.”

“Yes, Captain.”

* * *

 

Bones is insistent that he accompany Kirk to check on the rest of the bridge crew. He knows Vulcan biology is singularly bizarre but he’s not willing to take a chance with anyone else.

The bridge is moderately buzzing when they return. Kirk casts a glance around and the chatter lulls a bit.

Spock isn’t back yet. Kirk had ordered the man to get a drink first, maybe change into a fresh uniform. The First Officer had looked- if possible- grateful for the suggestion. _Proud-ass Vulcan,_ Bones thinks to himself. Spock would never consent to rest unless he was ordered to it. Even then…

“Captain?”

“Yes, Lieutenant?”

Uhura is silent for a moment and Bones steps back a fraction, pretending to inspect stations with his tricorder. He knows what she’s going to ask. _Patience of a saint,_ he thinks. He wonders distantly whether or not Spock and Uhura have patched things up.

 “I was only wondering if we needed to change Alpha shift, sir.”

“No, Lieutenant. Our First Officer is returning to duty.”

Bones watches her shoulders drop, a confident nod ending the exchange. _I guess she’s just as professional as Spock sometimes,_ Bones thinks with mild amusement. _I wonder why I never saw that._

He doesn’t have time to mull. Spock appears on the bridge, silent as usual, casting a glance and a firm nod at Kirk. He looks better, Bones thinks. _Not green anymore._

He’s a bit confused when Spock and Uhura don’t acknowledge each other.

Kirk is obviously still worried. Bones can relate; they know nothing about why Spock collapsed. He’s almost sure that it had something to do with Sector 13, though.

“Ensign Rey. Any new information about Sector 13?”

“We didn’t receive many usable scans, Captain,” Rey starts. She sounds annoyed. “I was able to compile fragmented readouts, however- we may be able to run them through our database and compare elemental composition to known astronomical events.”

As Kirk watches, Sulu’s head snaps to Rey. He stares at her for a moment and Kirk raises an eyebrow at the pair. _Huh. Guess she’s a smart kid,_ Bones thinks. He continues walking around the bridge, quietly murmuring to the crew.

“Run them through.”

“Already done, Captain,” Rey says.

She doesn’t sound proud. Just…factual. _Well, then. Damn genius kids._

“Let me know if we turn up any results.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Bones leaves and the rest of Alpha shift passes swiftly. He starts to think that maybe, just once, they’ll make it to port without incident. He’s glad to go to lunch, stress and worry eventually catching up to him. _Maybe I should have some of Spock’s weird tea,_ he thinks drily.

“Captain.”

Bones swears he levitates an inch off his seat. He thinks Kirk, sitting across from him, does too.

“ _Spock_. You scared me,” Kirk breathes, face sinking into his hands.

“…an unfortunate habit of mine, it seems. I apologize.”

Bones almost chokes on his food.

_Was that a goddamn joke? Just how sick is he?_

Kirk exhales slowly, hands resting by his tray. _He doesn’t even like broccoli,_ Bones thinks in disgust, looking at the food he’s pretty sure Kirk didn’t pay attention to when he ordered it.

Before Kirk is a cup of tea. The man stares at it as if he thinks he’s hallucinating. Bones can’t blame him. He doesn’t want to admit it but he has no idea when Spock put it there.

“Spock- did you-?”

“You are still experiencing undue stress. I thought it wise to offer,” Spock explains, fingers steepled under his chin. “…it may not be to your taste.”

The admission is oddly human, Bones thinks. It’s a little unsettling.

“Look, if you’re gonna give him some weird Vulcan remedy-,” Bones starts, pointing a fork at Spock.

Kirk interrupts, sending him a look that says _please_. Bones tries not to be hurt by it. He only succeeds a little

“Thank you.”

There’s a moment of silence as Kirk drinks. Bones bites into a broccoli sprout a bit too hard. _Why do I care if they’re close? Of course they’re close. Captain and First Officer,_ Bones reminds himself. It’s a hollow consolation.

Ever since their crash-landing he’s been questioning a lot about his relationship to Spock.

 “I am glad you approve,” Spock says quietly.

Kirk blinks.

“I didn’t-,”

Spock blinks. For a fraction of a second- _just_ a fraction- Bones thinks he sees a vague hint of panic. It’s gone in an instant.

“As you did not regurgitate it or express outright displeasure, I assumed,” Spock quips.

Kirk smiles, shaking his head. Bones feels a little like he’s an outsider watching a private conversation. He thinks that maybe he hates that feeling. ( _He’ll never admit it._ )

“You assumed,” Kirk repeats with a grin.

Bones thinks that maybe, just maybe, Spock’s lips twitch in the ghost of a smile.

* * *

Kirk insists that Spock stop by Bones’ office after Alpha shift. The Doctor is sent a memo so he waits, door set to outside view. He can see the people walking by; they can’t see him. He finds small pleasure in being able to observe the (unfounded, of course) panic on new ensigns’ faces as they come in for their first checkups.

Spock takes great pains to avoid the Doctor’s office. Bones hopes he can catch Spock faking a knock. Not that he thinks Spock is one for acting.

Bones is therefore surprised when Spock actually _does_ show up at the door. He’s even more surprised when he and Uhura share nothing more than a friendly glance as she passes by.

The door has already slid open and Bones, fool that he is, can’t help opening his mouth.

“I thought maybe you two had patched things up.”

He regrets it almost immediately.

To his surprise, however, Spock doesn’t tense up. There’s no professional mask dropping over his face and Bones wonders if it’s the mystery illness or perhaps something else.

“I am not sure what you mean. We _have_ reconciled,” Spock states.

“Really? ‘Cause she didn’t look to excited to see her boyfriend still alive.”

 _That_ does something. Spock seems to shrink a little and Bones wants to kick himself because it looks like the Vulcan’s been kicked in the heart. _Vulcans can’t love,_ the little voice sings and Bones starts to hate it just a little.

“…we have reconciled,” Spock says quietly. “However- it was decided that our…relationship would not continue. It was not…in her best interests.”

“Her best interests,” Bones echoes, feeling even worse.

“I care about her,” Spock says firmly, cutting him off. “And I think I have done enough harm already.”

Bones bites back an answer, glad when Kirk walks by and pauses, slipping inside.

“Any changes?” Bones asks, electing to give him the peace of ignorance.

“No, Doctor,” Spock replies but Bones can see the edges of panic he’d seen in the mess hall.

“Are you sure?” Kirk asks, pressing. Bones shoots him a look.

_What the hell is going on?_

Spock looks at Kirk for a long moment. Kirk stares right back.

“I am fine.”

 _Yeah,_ Bones thinks, heart dropping in his chest. _Something’s wrong._

* * *

 

When he reaches his chambers, Spock releases a pent-up breath. _Bad practice,_ he thinks dimly, not really caring. He knows there is tension knotted within him so he moves automatically to a clear space on his floor, the spot marked by a small dish of incense.

His head still hurts so he ignores the incense, instead crossing his legs and slipping into a quiet peace.

 _Something is wrong. I am…feeling things I should not be able to,_ he thinks.

Spock has no illusions about his humanity. He knows that half of him- more or less, he knows, because fertilization and genetic material is never beautifully split- is human. He knows that he, as half-Vulcan, is the very embodiment of contradiction. His biology, heritage, and teachings are constantly at war with each other.

He has learned how to reconcile his differences, though. It is for that reason that he feels absolutely sure that the emotions he is sensing are not his own.

What he does not know is why he is feeling _both_ Jim and McCoy’s emotions.

* * *

It is late in the evening when there is a knock on Spock’s door.

It is hesitant, quiet even. It gives Spock pause but he feels- _feels_ \- after a moment who it is.

“Come in, Jim,” he says quietly, speaking up just enough for the microphone to catch his voice.

The door slides open softly and Jim enters, pausing a step in as he catches sight of Spock.

“What are you doing?”

 _Checking,_ Spock thinks. He is sitting at his desk, tricorder flickering brightly as he reads its data on a holo screen.

“Performing a routine data review,” Spock says instead. It’s not a lie.

Jim is silent, arms crossed over his chest. _Crossed arms,_ Spock thinks, _are a sign of self-protection._

He addresses the situation because he’s seen the data string he needs to and he knows, without a doubt, that until he figures out how to fix the link he’ll be connected to both Jim and McCoy. Half of the problem has solved itself, really- Spock is rarely around Dr. McCoy. Jim, however…

“Is something wrong, Jim?”

Even he is taken aback at his soft tone. He wonders for a moment if it’s Jim rubbing off on him. _No. Perhaps not._

Jim blinks, wets his lips nervously.

“You’re scared,” Jim says. It is sudden, loud in the confines of Spock’s quarters.

_It is true._

“…what do you mean?”

He doesn’t say that fear is illogical, or an emotion that only humans feel. Jim notices.

“You’ve been-,”

Jim is cut off when an alarm blares loudly in the hallway. It’s muted in Spock’s room, a request due to the heightened sensitivity of Vulcan hearing. Jim only hesitates for a fraction of a second.

“Let’s go,” the man says, running towards the bridge. “We’ll talk later.”

* * *

“What’s going on?”

“ _There’s a leak,_ ” Scotty says over the comm link. “ _It must have happened when we diverted power to weapons._ ”

“How far are we from port?”

“Half an hour, captain,” Rey says immediately.

 _Not fast enough,_ Kirk thinks. _We need to get there._

“Damn it…Scotty, can we accelerate?”

“ _Bad idea, Captain! The energy is leaking back into the core- we may overheat it again, or worse, start a fire._ ”

“Can we get it fixed?”

“ _Temperatures in the maintenance ducts are extremely high, Captain- we can’t send someone down without risk of-,_ ”

“Captain,” Spock interrupts, loud enough to cut Scotty off but controlled. “I would like to volunteer-,”

“Like _hell_ ,” Jim blurts automatically. It hits him after the words have left his mouth that maybe he should be a bit more restrained.

 _Who gives a fuck. My crew knows me,_ he thinks.

“Captain, my biology-,”

“Does not make you indestructible,” Kirk finishes, feeling panic and anger simmer in his chest. “The answer is _no_ , Mr. Spock.”

Out of the corner of his eye Kirk sees Sulu exchange a glance with Rey. He can practically hear the man’s unspoken explanation. _When he uses the ‘mister’, it’s serious._

“Scotty, can we make it without patching the leak?”

“ _…it’s possible, sir,_ ” Scotty says, hesitant. Jim thinks the man probably heard everything.

“It’s not ideal but at this point I don’t want to send anyone down,” Jim sighs. “We haven’t encountered hostiles; if we can get to port it won’t matter.”

“ _Yes, Captain. I’ll monitor the situation,_ ” Scotty says.

When the comm shuts off Kirk swivels in his chair, ready to chew out his First Officer.

He’s greeted by an empty seat.

* * *

It is a familiar act.

One of them suggests something (usually involving sacrifice, Spock notes), the other refuses, the first does it anyways.

 _Like an infinite loop,_ Spock thinks to himself as he rides the lift down.

He knows the leak probably isn’t dangerous. If it is, though, he wants to be close enough to get to the engineering deck without having to fight Jim.

He retires to his room again, hoping to meditate on the tricorder scans. The hail from Jim is almost immediate.

“Yes, Captain?”

“Where are you?”

His tone is demanding but Spock can only sense the distant echoes of worry and anger. He thanks the distance between them for softening the emotions.

“I apologize, Captain. I thought it best to retire to my quarters given Dr. McCoy’s suggestion to rest.”

The room is silent for a minute and Spock, despite the distance between them, can imagine Jim’s face as he relaxes in his seat. He can see the man rubbing his face, strain and anxiety taking over.

He feels guilty.

“Good. Good,” Jim repeats, the word a sigh leaving his mouth. “Stay there.”

The last words are firm. Almost a directive. Not quite.

“Yes, Captain.”

He misses the man’s presence when the link closes.

It takes Spock a moment to collect his thoughts and when he does, he opens the tricorder readings again.

 _There, at the moment I lost consciousness,_ Spock thinks to himself while staring at the blue-white text. _They were both present. Both holding physical contact._

He remembers the spike of pain, like an ice pick driving itself through his head. Pain and then nothing.

Nothing but Jim and McCoy, like constants in an equation where the only variable is which one of them trouble will befall.

* * *

Spock emerges from his meditative trance when he feels a rush of _panic fear determination_. He knows immediately what he must do.

It is easy to slip on his uniform, easier still to disappear amongst the hectic movement of the Engineering crew. He makes it over to Scott easily, admiring for a moment the controlled chaos of the man at work.

“Mr. Scott.”

“What- Mr. Spock, what are you doing down here?” His tone changes, aggrieved to surprised.

“The Captain has determined that I might be of use,” Spock submits.

“Right. Well, I didn’t expect the leak to be this bad,” the man says by way of explanation, leading Spock to the maintenance shafts. “It’s started affecting our warp core. We need to patch it at least before we’re dead in the water.”

Spock notes with vague interest that Scott’s accent- much like McCoy’s- is heightened in times of stress.

 _I shall have to study that after we dock,_ Spock thinks to himself as he gazes into the yawning darkness of the shaft.

“How much time will I have?”

“At the most, ten minutes. Here- gloves. Use this to cover the tear,” Scott explains, offering a small metal device. “Press the button and it’ll lock into place.”

“Once the leak is addressed, is there any danger of other issues arising?”

It’s a pointless question, Spock knows. There are always dangers. He asks anyways, though. _Humans feel better when they have exhausted all possibilities,_ he thinks. _It will be easier on him if he thinks I am fully prepared._

“I don’t know,” Scott says, frustrated. He looks tired, Spock thinks. “Be careful.”

Spock can only afford a curt nod, dropping into the shaft with easy grace.

_I hope Jim does not find out._

* * *

“He _what_?”

Kirk can hear his own icy tone as he rises from his seat, immediately turning to leave the deck.

He pauses, though, because there’s a voice at the back of his head.

_I would never have let my First Officer do that._

Pike, after the eruption. Pike, like always, saying one thing out loud and another with his tone. The unspoken half of the question.

**_I would never have gone back._ **

On top of Sector 13, Kirk can already see the pages of the report that will address his First Officer fixing the leak without permission.

 _Sometimes I’m surprised we’re all still flying,_ Kirk thinks to himself.

“ _Captain. He- Mr. Spock wants me to patch him through to you. Communication is fuzzy in the shaft but-,_ ”

“Do it,” Kirk says immediately, turning back to grip his chair.

He _wants_ to be running down to engineering. He can feel eyes on him, can sense the question. They’re wondering why he isn’t running.

He wonders, too.

“ _Captain,_ ” Spock’s static voice issues over the comm.

“Mr. Spock, you are in _serious_ trouble,” Kirk says but the words are softened by the half-laugh he can’t help, the relief he feels at hearing his friend’s voice.

“ _I fail to see why, Captain. This was the logical outcome._ ”

If he weren’t so worried, Kirk would probably laugh at the mild response. He _knows_ there’s teasing in there, hidden beneath half a Vulcan and a whole jerk.

“Right. As soon as you patch that leak I want you out of there; do you understand?”

“ _Of course, Captain. My body is not acclimated to **that** much heat._”

Kirk bites back his grin.

There’s a brief silence and the sounds of shifting and metal. Kirk tries to ignore the low growl Spock makes when he does whatever it is Scotty told him to.

 _Come on, come on,_ Kirk thinks, anxious.

“ _The patch is in place,_ ” Spock says, vaguely breathless.

 _What’s wrong with me?_ Kirk wonders. He’s feeling a confused mess of relief and…something else.

“Good. Now get out. I’m on my way.”

He doesn’t get inside the lift before he hears Scotty’s voice on the comm.

“ _Hold on a minute- Mr. Spock, you need to get out **now**!_ ”

Kirk feels his heart pound like a drum as he overrides the lift, cranking it as fast as it can go. 

* * *

 

Bones is waiting by the shaft. He thinks that this is turning out to be one of those trips.

Jim barrels around the corner and almost right into Scotty.

“Captain, he’s-,”

“Where is he?” the man demands, pushing past the man and towards the maintenance shaft.

“Captain, _listen_ ,” Scotty nearly yells, straining.

 “Jim,” Bones says firmly, interrupting.

“Bones, what-,”

“This is going to be awkward,” Bones says, feeling desperately like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“What?”

“The temperature down there is extreme,” Bones starts, glancing at Scotty, who looks immensely relieved to be left out of the explanation. “He’s wearing gloves, but apparently they only do so much.”

“And- what? What are-,”

Silence.

Bones raises an eyebrow as Jim stands frozen in place, fighting a raging blush.

 _Vulcans have over twice the nerve endings than we do in their fingers,_ he hears someone say in the back of his mind. Whispering while Spock taught the class. _Wonder what would happen if he slammed ‘em in a door?_

“He’s going to be…overheated,” Bones winces, trying to ignore the use of the word. “We should probably get him to his room as soon as he comes up.”

“Right. All right,” Jim agrees, looking. “Scotty- keep your crew away from the door. Bones…”

The unspoken end of the sentence is _we’ll help him,_ but Bones knows why Jim doesn’t finish. _Spock won’t want **anyone** to help him, **see** him like this, _he thinks. It’s a good idea to limit the people in contact with him. Bones can tell Jim is about to send him back but the Captain knows that as the ship’s doctor it’s technically his right to stay.

Bones watches him struggle for a minute and then he sighs, shaking his head as he runs a hand over his face.

“All right. Look- that pointy-eared bastard probably won’t want me around. But I’m the Doctor and I should be the one overseeing this. If anything, he can avoid me easier than you.”

“Right. Let me know what happens,” Kirk demands, backing away with a lingering glance at the shaft.

When Scotty and Jim disappear, Bones is left to listen as Spock ascends the ladder, getting closer and closer.

He swallows a bit too hard, wondering not for the first time why he’s still on the _Enterprise_. _This would never happen on any other ship,_ he thinks to himself.

“Spock. Ah…you doin’ all right?” Bones asks. He isn’t sure he can sound casual.

_Was he **flirting** with Jim earlier?_

The realization unfortunately hits Bones just as he sees the top of Spock’s head appear. _Well, fuck._

“Doctor,” Spock acknowledges. He sounds out of breath, Bones thinks.

“You know, that was a damn fool thing to do. I thought _Jim_ was bad.”

“Perhaps,” Spock says lightly but Bones can see the man moving as quickly as he can, nearly slipping on a step.

“Careful-,” Bones warns, immediately reaching down to grab Spock’s hand.

There’s a tiny gasp, a small noise punctuated by something that sounds like a whine in the back of Spock’s throat.

The blush that Bones has been fighting springs forth with a vengeance and he can feel his face heating, almost buzzing with a mixture of embarrassment and something he doesn’t want to think about yet.

Bones drops Spock’s hand as if burned, blinking rapidly.

“Sorry,” he says immediately, trying desperately to play it off. “You probably need ice; I know it was hot down there.”

Spock almost leaps out of the tunnel, ducking his head as he stares at his partially burned gloves. _He’s avoiding eye contact_.

Bones is about to say something when Spock begins to walk faster than he ever has before. The Doctor has a time keeping up with the First Officer’s longer legs, nearly jogging as he follows.

“I apologize, Doctor. I need- I believe I need to retire to my quarters,” Spock says, choking on his words.

He sounds like a man losing control, Bones thinks dimly.

“Were you burned? We need to-,”

“I am fine,” Spock says immediately but his tone fluctuates.

“Oh, like _hell_ ,” Bones starts, trying to speak, but they arrive at Spock’s door and the FO is about to disappear inside so he moves on instinct.

He grabs Spock’s wrist this time but it jolts him and then Bones is speechless because Spock makes a choking noise and when his head turns his angled cheekbones are clearly flushed with green.

 _Mistake after goddamn mistake,_ Bones thinks.

“Doctor, _please_ ,” Spock says.

He sounds wrecked and Bones can hear his own heart _thump-whoosh_ in his ears. He wants to say _I’ll help_ and the thought shocks him enough that he drops Spock’s hand and watches the man disappear into his room. He wonders, not for the first time-

_What is wrong with me?_

* * *

Bones has never been good with relationships.

He’d had his fair share as a young man. Hell, he’d had more than his fair share before settling down. His marriage hadn’t ended well, though, and after the divorce he’d found himself reeling from the way it had turned his entire life upside down.

He’s had a hard time loving.

It’s not just romantically, either. Bones has had a hard time making _friends_. Jim had been the first man to ignore his salty attitude, even seeming to enjoy Bones’ company for the most part. Bones, despite all his walls, had found himself unable to resist.

Spock had been different.

He’d felt like an intruder at first. Hell, Bones had taken pleasure in making fun of the Vulcan with Jim at school. It had been harmless. After their first voyage, however, Jim had taken to the Vulcan like butter to bread. They were certainly an odd pair but they had _worked_ in a way Bones had never seen before. He’d tried to tell himself to be happy with Jim being happy but he could never quite shake the feeling of being replaced.

And then he’d been stuck with an injured Spock after crash landing and he’d started to realize why Jim liked the Vulcan. He had realized and realized and felt like an ass for pushing the Vulcan away, feeling jealous and possessive. Because Spock _deserved_ friendship. His walls of science and procedure were, after all, walls. And who was Bones to criticize what he himself had?

Apparently, Spock is shaping up to be the first male-identifying life form Bones has ever accidentally become interested in.

“Damn it,” Bones groans, turning over in bed for the fiftieth time since he’d gone to sleep.

_It just **had** to be him._

Bones is used to being alone. He had gotten used to it, before Jim. Now, he thinks he’s finding himself drawn into the family dynamic of the _Enterprise_. It’s wonderful and terrifying and he thinks that maybe the worst thing he could have possibly done is what’s happened now. _Accidentally,_ he reminds himself, falling for a _friend_.

He knows what’s wrong with himself now. What he doesn’t know is how to fix it, before it breaks. 

* * *

 

When Spock awakens, his body is humming pleasantly. He muscles are loose with sleep and- embarrassingly, he begins to recall- the release he had found once locked in his quarters.

As his mind sharpens he begins to remember in more detail what had transpired once he had emerged from the maintenance shaft.

 _Bones,_ he thinks, almost paralyzed with a sudden rush of despair, shock, and shame.

The emotions are so strong he thinks for a moment they’re someone else’s and his condition has worsened.

After a few even breaths, however, he realizes that is not the case.

He knows what he must do.

* * *

Bones is under no mistaken impression that Spock is okay.

He’d known, at first, that the stubborn (yes, _stubborn_ ) Vulcan had experienced something dangerous in Sector 13. He hadn’t known _what_ , but he’d known something was wrong.

It had clicked into place after the leak.

They were docking when Bones rose from his seat, mouth hanging partway open, eyes wide as he stared at a spot on the far wall.

“Sir?”

He blinks, looking at Christine, who is concerned.

“Go on,” he tries to reassure her, clearing his throat when the words come out in a croak. “I forgot something.”

 _Boy, did I forget something_.

He practically sprints to Jim’s room, sure the man is going to check on his First Officer as soon as he packs his things. Bones knows that Spock has been locked in his room for the last half hour- it had taken them fifteen to get to port and another fifteen to go through the rigmarole of requesting decontamination (for the Sector 13 incident) and a maintenance team (for the leak).

“Jim. Open up.”

There’s a shuffle behind the door, a muffled _ow_.

“C’m in, Bones,” Jim manages.

Bones snorts when he enters, taking in the scene before him. Jim is half-dressed, a grey cotton shirt hanging around his neck as he throws items into a backpack. There’s a security card clamped firmly between his teeth and as Bones watches, he maneuvers his arm into a sleeve.

“Jim, I know what’s wrong with Spock.”

He watches the comical widening of Jim’s eyes, the way the security card falls onto the floor with a _clack_.

 _He’s more of a mess than I am,_ Bones thinks drily. _For once_.

“What? What happened? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. I think. Or- not really,” Bones stops and starts over again, shaking his head. He sighs deeply, trying not to feel his age. _What the hell am I doing in space, anyways?_

“Damn it, Bones- what’s going on? Is he okay or not?”

“Look- I don’t know. All I know is, this has something to do with his damn…mind-reading stuff.”

“…mind reading,” Jim says, voice distant. He seems to have realized something.

“Yeah,” Bones says, unsure. “Whatever we passed through in Sector 13 must have affected him. I’m not sure _how_ he’s been affected but he _has_ been.”

“So- so you think he can…tell what we’re thinking?”

Bones can practically hear Jim swallow. He wonders, not for the first time, what the hell his life has become.

_I sure hope to hell he can’t._

“Not really- I mean, I’m no Vulcan but from what I know it’s more like…emotions.”

“Okay,” Jim says slowly, kneeling to retrieve his card. “Okay. I need to talk to him.”

“Hold on, cowboy- maybe you should wait. I’m the doctor here and I _still_ haven’t seen him. He’s technically under my care until he sets foot off this ship and if you talk to him, he may bolt. Lemme go see him first.”

Jim blinks, still halfway into his shirt. For a minute Bones feels sorry for him and then he remembers that technically it’s both Jim and the stupid Vulcan’s fault that this happened. _No sympathy here._

“Okay,” Jim finally says, nodding. “Let me know what happens.”

* * *

 

Bones knocks on the door, wishing for the thousandth time that he didn’t have to worry about Vulcans and their goddamned biology.

Or humans and their goddamned feelings.

“Enter.”

Bones shakes his head but steps inside anyways, eyes adjusting to the dim room. He almost chokes on his spit when he sees Spock.

Not that he didn’t know Spock showered. It’s just that Spock never showered directly before going on duty, so Bones has never experienced the Vulcan fresh out of the shower.

It is, frankly, a sensory overload.

Spock has a very precise haircut. Just washed, however, his hair seems just a little unruly- almost as if it might naturally be wavy, fighting the severe lines of his usual style. His skin is barely flushed with green (heat? from the shower?) and his lashes seem dark, spiky against his pale skin. There is a towel around his neck and he’s wearing loose pants and an interesting grey shirt that looks oddly familiar.

Besides which, he smells like spices. Some unnamed, unnatural spice and a perplexing hint of vanilla.

Bones’ mouth is suddenly quite dry.

 _I think I know why Spock tries to be more Vulcan than Human,_ he thinks.

“Doctor. I am feeling better,” Spock says, sounding for all the world as if he is forcing the words out.

“Bullshit,” Bones spits back, trying with near-Herculean effort to quash any and all emotion.

He’s not sure how successful he is but Spock isn’t kicking him out, so.

“There is no need for the language, Doctor.”

“I know it was Sector Thirteen,” Bones cuts him off, watching the miniscule widening of the Vulcan’s eyes with a vague sense of triumph.

_Am I honestly going to get excited about getting emotion out of him? For all I know, it’s someone else’s._

“Doctor, I would appreciate privacy.”

“Damn it, Spock, I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong!”

“I do not require help, Doctor,” Spock replies tensely. “I require solitude.”

“Yeah, solitude my ass,” Bones snorts. “Solitude ain’t gonna fix your problem. Besides, you’re under doctor’s orders- _my_ orders- while you’re on this ship. So you can _tell_ me what’s wrong or you can stew here until we leave again.”

There’s a line of irritation between Spock’s eyebrows. Again, Bones wonders whose it is. _Where does he end and his problem begin? And is his irritation his own, or is it mine?_

“The unfortunate result of visiting Sector Thirteen, Doctor, is that I am unable to close a connection between the Captain, yourself, and me.”

And _that_. _That_ stops Bones’ train of thought like a boulder on train tracks.

“…us?” Bones manages, thinking that maybe the world is spinning.

“Yes. Now, Doctor, if you do not mind.”

Spock disappears into his closet and Bones, at a loss, turns to leave.

 _Jim’s gonna love this one._

* * *

 

Spock knows that he is running.

His Vulcan half reminds him that running, in some cases, is logical. His Human half screams that he is being weak.

The competing arguments are not compelling enough to quell his instinct. He runs, leaving the ship after he suspects Dr. McCoy has gone to tell Jim the news.

Logically, he knows he will have to face the issue upon returning. Some part of him, though, seems to think that maybe this problem will fix itself. That maybe the open connection can be severed.

He does not know what will happen, so he leaves.

He only gets five miles from the ship before collapsing in an alley, out of sight, body curled into itself in pain.

 _Worry denial fear_ envelop him and his head is swimming. The threads of connection, so thin but _there_ , feel as if they are stretching. His mind is burning with the effort of keeping the connection there and he wants it to break but as it is now, it feels like breaking it will break his mind along with it.

He cannot stomach the thought, does not want to try, so he does the next best thing.

He disappears in plain sight.

* * *

Kirk finds, at the bottom of his fifth glass, that things can sometimes get clear the fuzzier they are.

He knows Spock is gone for now. There is a possibility he won’t come back but the possibility is fading with each drink that Kirk has.

_He would never leave in that way. He’s a Vulcan. Better yet, he’s Spock. He’d do things properly if it meant signing a contract with blood from his own broken bones._

And if that isn’t a suitably macabre thought Kirk doesn’t know what is.

He barely sees the body sliding into a seat next to him at the bar. When he glances to the side he gets a neon-illuminated view of wings that could cut steel and he thinks with graveyard humor that of course it’s got to be the ex coming to his aid.

“You’re a moron,” Uhura says in the same dispassionate tone one would answer a math question with.

_I’ve heard it all before._

“Mn. Get you a drink?”

She looks at him out of the corner of her fierce eyes and he sees disgust flit across her face as if she’s asking, _him?_

Yeah. Kirk has the same feeling.

“No. Unlike some people, I don’t drink my emotions into the bottom of a bottle.”

“Could have fooled me,” Kirk laughs humorlessly.

Her next glare makes him feel the specter of a mean hook to his jaw.

“You’re painfully stupid. You _and_ McCoy.”

“Bones? Bones isn’t stupid,” Kirk says lowly, gazing at his glass. It’s full again.

“Oh, he is,” Uhura flips her ponytail and it shines darkly in the night.

“Did you come here just to insult me? Since I’m not technically your Captain right now?”

Uhura gazes at him steadily and Kirk thinks that probably, even on the ship, she would never hesitate to kick any Captain’s ass.

“Do you know when the last time Spock disappeared was?”

Kirk blinks, fingers missing his glass by centimeters. He feels too sober for this conversation so he downs his drink quickly, avoiding her gaze.

“He’s never disappeared.”

It’s the wrong answer, he knows.

“After you got your command,” Uhura starts, speaking almost as if he’s not there. “He didn’t have time to mourn his planet. His people. When they held the ceremony for you- when they were working on the ship, he disappeared. For a week.”

“I thought he was with you,” Kirk says.

Her eyes are hurt but fierce and he thinks that maybe this- _this_ \- is why Spock was with her. Why he let her in.

“He didn’t let me in,” she says, quiet, answering his unspoken question. “He couldn’t, really. He wanted to, I think. He just couldn’t.”

Kirk wants to say _I’m sorry_ but he knows how little trite phrases like that mean.

“I respect myself, you know,” Uhura continues, shooting him a sidelong look. “I wanted to make it work. I wasn’t under any illusions that it would be easy. He’s half Vulcan.”

“Half human, all trouble,” Kirk adds, fighting the grin on his face as he swirls his glass.

Uhura is staring at him. He tries not to meet her eyes. He wants very much to disappear, unconscious, thinking. Thinking about why he suddenly feels like he has to explain a friendship he’s never questioned.

“He opened up to you,” Uhura states. States, like a fact.

He- he doesn’t know what to say. _Fuck._

“I don’t…I’m not sure…,” he tries, staring too hard at his glass. His eyes are stinging.

Uhura shakes her head. She’s disappointed. _Yeah. I am, too._

“You’re an idiot,” she repeats, this time softer. “and he is, too.”

* * *

Kirk wouldn’t have recognized Spock if it weren’t for the fact that he _knows_ the Vulcan’s singularly expressive eyes.

He’s spent a lot of time searching them for emotion. He would know them.

The Vulcan is hiding, he thinks. He’s wearing plain pants and a grey shirt, Starfleet issue. It’s an Academy shirt with a little symbol on the left side of the chest. A dark blue baseball cap covers the top of his ears. Spock, Starfleet Academy swag, is hiding in a small restaurant-hotel in the tourist part of town.

He’s not sure what he’s thinking when he slips into the booth with the Vulcan.

Spock stiffens immediately, glancing at the front door.

“I’m not drunk,” Kirk starts, wincing a little. _Although I probably should be._

The unspoken sentiment is clear to Spock, who seems to relax back into his seat as if he’s giving up. Giving in.

“You followed me,” the Vulcan says quietly.

“No. I wanted food. You weren’t hiding well,” Kirk shoots back.

He can see Spock gazing at a spot on the table as if he’s concentrating. _Shit._ It takes Kirk a moment to reign in his scattered mind, focusing on the reason he came over. It wasn’t to test the boundaries of their link.

“Was there something in particular you require, Jim?”

“This link. Can you…shut it down?”

Spock looks up at him with exasperation. _In the eyes. All in the eyes._

“I have tried, Jim.”

“Have you tried while…the first time, there was physical contact,” Kirk amends, tripping on words.

_Why does this have to be so goddamn intimate? It’s not like I’d have a problem with this. It’s just…_

Spock watches him quietly, eyes surveying as he curls his hand around a cup of tea. There’s curiosity and surprise in his gaze.

“I thought it unwise and rude to suggest such action.”

“But not to keep the truth from us?”

Spock’s eyebrow rises and Jim huffs, tired smile softening his harsh words.

“I am aware that our…friendship…often suffers from my actions,” Spock begins.

And _damn_. If he had known. If he had just _thought_ , for once, maybe he would have seen it sooner. Seen what he sees in Spock’s eyes right in that moment. He’s not just Vulcan; he’s human. He is human and so of course he has reservations, of course he would be nervous, of course he’d worry about fucking up his friendship. Because if Kirk is honest, he’s pretty sure Spock has never truly had a friend before.

“Spock,” Kirk blurts, eyes wide. “You’re my _friend_. More than that- you’re- you-,”

He isn’t sure what he’s trying to say, doesn’t know what to tell Spock to make him _understand_. He’s at a loss and there are words floating in the back of his mind he can’t say so he stops, exasperated. Hoping the idea floating in his mind can echo through their bond.

 “I believe that I may try closing the connection,” Spock submits after a moment, sounding weary and something else unrecognizable. “I will preface by saying that it will likely be…intimate. We will be fully connected for moments.”

Kirk nods, swallowing hard as he rubs the bridge of his nose nervously.

“Well, I don’t feel like putting on a show. Your room?”

The corner of Spock’s mouth twists upwards and at least the smirk- _half-smile_ \- is familiar enough to stop Kirk’s heart from pounding.

“Yes, Captain. We will retire to my room.”

* * *

Jim swallows, watching Spock settle into place across from him. Spock thinks for a moment that the man is prepared to sprint from the room, his hands clenched into fists on his legs. He’s still a little disappointed that Jim isn’t at ease yet.

“This will be easier if you relax.”

There’s a brief rush of _embarrassment guilt anxiety_ and then the conflicting emotions quiet, dimming into a low murmur. Spock thinks that Jim, in one of his rare moments of practicality, has probably been trying to control his emotions. It is difficult for humans, Spock knows. He is grateful for the attempt.

“You said we’ll be connected?”

“We will,” Spock agrees. “It will not last long. I will not intrude into your mind. My own is…protected, where it is important.”

“Right,” Jim murmurs, avoiding Spock’s gaze. “Will...what does it feel like?”

“I can’t say for certain,” Spock says quietly. “I have heard that humans usually find the experience pleasant, although overwhelming if done improperly.”

Jim is silent for a minute, biting his lip, and Spock wonders what it is the man is hiding.

“Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Jim breathes and then Spock reaches out, closing his eyes.

With a touch, Spock feels a twinge like static electricity. Jim flinches away minutely at first, instinct telling him to flee. He does not, however, and Spock is once again grateful.

The connection falls into sudden place with the sharpness of a key fitting in a lock.

The connection is clear like glass and water, there but invisible, ringing like a pure note in his mind. Spock almost smiles, the urge tugging at him from somewhere deep within. He can feel Jim’s presence, always there but now amplified.

Shock and awe vibrates through their link and then Spock gets a vague sense, like a thought. _This is what it should have been like._

So that was it.

Spock knows Jim had melded with Spock Prime. He knows now that it was rushed, clumsy, not invasive but certainly not comfortable. He recognizes Jim’s initial reluctance and he can’t help feeling a warm rush of affection at the man’s willingness to go through with it.

 _Now to close it,_ Spock thinks. His best guess is that breaking contact will break the link so he prepares himself, readying his mind to ease away.

Before he does, he takes one last chance to immerse himself in Jim’s mind. It shines brightly in the distance and Spock, curious, finds himself drawn.

It is surprising to Spock that his friend’s mind is a smooth plane, a field of something he thinks may be wheat. The grass is tall around him and he thinks that there are bees buzzing by, lazy and circling. There is warmth, temperate, and an intermittent wind that carries the impression of a clear lake nearby. It is just like Jim, he realizes, wild but beautiful in its natural precision, everything in its proper place.

This comes to Spock’s mind and he smiles, the movement echoing and vibrating across their link.

He can feel the Jim’s mind, pleased, the emotion translating into a ray of sun. Physically, Spock feels a laugh bubble out from somewhere in his chest.

When he backs away from the connection, hand moving from the man’s face, he opens his eyes and is greeted with eyes that are as blue as the sky in his mind. They are bright and unafraid.

Jim is smiling.

His eyes are crinkled at the corners, lines like rays of sunlight across a field.

Jim is smiling at Spock the way he always has but not quite because it’s brighter than before. _Unafraid._

“I’m sorry,” the man laughs, leaning forward, elbows resting on his thighs. He’s shaking his head, tears spilling from joyful eyes.

“Jim- if I have done something,” Spock begins, worrying that perhaps his glimpse of Jim’s mind was too much for the man.

“No- No, _Jesus_ , Spock. Why haven’t we done this before?” the man gasps for breath, coming off a high of laughter.

Spock blinks, leaning back in his seat. He is confused.

“A mind-meld is not something done lightly,” Spock says tightly, trying to understand.

Jim rubs his eyes, still shaking his head as if he can’t believe anything.

“That’s not it. It’s just- we’re close, aren’t we? We’re friends. I just…I guess still, after everything, there were things I didn’t understand about you.”

“And this helped?”

“It did,” Jim smiles, leaning his arms on his legs. “and I’m sorry. For holding back.”

“I can hardly blame you, Jim,” Spock quips, raising an eyebrow. “After all, I am quite the same.”

“Yeah. We are kind of the same,” Jim smiles, eye bright.

_Blue like the sky. And just as free._

* * *

Bones gets into Jim’s room easily, knowing the man is probably avoiding his life. He can’t say he isn’t, either, but he thinks that if Jim talks to Spock first it’ll make things easier.

 “Don’t tell me,” Jim groans as he wakes, turning over in bed to pull a pillow onto his head. “I don’t wanna know why you’re in here.”

Bones throws a bottle of water at the man, irked. Jim makes a small _oof_ before lifting his pillow a bit, peeking out.

 “Drink,” Bones commands, amused but still too aggravated to let him slide.

Either Bones is persuasive enough or Jim is in a good mood. The man scoots up in bed, uncapping the bottle.

“Why _are_ you here?”

Bones tosses a bottle of pills his way, one leg crossed over the other. He swivels in the desk chair, gazing up at the ceiling. _Because I’m going to use your problems to solve mine._

“I think you need to have a little chat with our favorite green hobgoblin.”

Kirk squints, staring at Bones. He doesn’t automatically respond, nodding slowly as he swirls water in his mouth. _Okay, something’s up,_ Bones thinks, suspicious.

“Why don’t you go talk to him? You’re the doctor.”

“He ain’t gonna be happy to see me,” Bones gripes, trying to avoid the unspoken question. “It might be better for his peace of mind if you go.”

“I guess it’s a good thing I already did, then,” Jim says casually, raising his eyebrows as he leans back in bed.

“…you did,” Bones echoes, feeling a tiny bit dead inside. _There goes that plan._

“Yeah. And I’m fine, thanks for asking,” Jim adds, smirking. “I didn’t lose my mind when we fixed the link.”

 “He fixed it?”

Jim stares and Bones tries to play his interest off, swiveling in his chair again. It doesn’t work. He can already tell.

_He knows me too goddamn well._

“Yeah. It was…interesting.”

“Interesting? You sure he didn’t mess up what little you have up there?” Bones gestures to Jim’s head, smirking.

 “You need to talk,” Jim replies. He’s deadly serious.

“... _what_?” Bones blinks, shocked. “You’re not okay. You ain’t even acting like yourself.”

He gets up to look at Jim’s pupils, reaching for a tricorder, but the man swats him away.

“I’m serious, Bones,” the man says, voice rising as he crosses his arms. “You need to talk to him.”

“About _what_? The fact that he’s- he was- we have some sort ‘a connection?” he flubs, flustered.

“Yes. _That_ and the fact that you two probably had some weird-ass conversation I missed while he was messed up from fixing the leak.”

“We didn’t have a conversation,” Bones protests, turning away to return to his chair. Really he just wants to hide his rising blush.

“…oh, _God_ , did you _kiss_ him?” Jim asks, voice rising.

“ _Like hell_!” Bones yells, spinning on his heels, shocked and unsure why he’s suddenly remembering the way Spock looked coming out of the shower.

_What the **fuck**?!_

Jim is staring smugly at him, an eyebrow raised expectantly.

_Oh. OH._

He wants to kick himself in the head. Really he should be more aware of when Jim is screwing around. It’s most of the time, really. He should know better. _Should_.

“Bones, come on.”

“No. No, that pointy-eared bastard doesn’t even _like_ me, how the hell-,”

“I don’t know what your problem is, Bones, but Spock isn’t lying to himself. You should try it.”

“Right,” Bones says, feeling off-balance and a little ill. “You want me to admit what? That I _like_ him?”

“I don’t know what you think,” Jim says pacifically. “All I know is that you _don’t_ hate him. You never have. Especially not since Altamid. You think he forgot that adventure? I didn’t.” 

* * *

Bones is wandering the downtown streets when he sees the man.

He almost does a double-take, glad for his Starfleet training when he lets his eyes slide naturally past the figure. He looks back after a minute, trying to ignore the way his heart beats.

The man has dark hair. It’s vaguely wavy, messy and pushed to the side. He has a striking profile, nose straight and almost regal. Bones notices that the man is wearing an Academy t-shirt, the soft cotton pulled against the lithe muscles of his body.

The stranger looks up, eyes meeting, and Bones loses his breath.

_Spock._

He should have known. Should have known that it isn’t a ‘in love with a man’ issue, it’s an ‘in love with Spock’ one. Because if it had been anyone else, he probably would have even tried to start a relationship. With Spock, though, he hasn’t.

He’s scared.

Either way, Spock is making a beeline for a small bed and breakfast and Bones finds himself slipping after him through the crowd.

He’s out of breath and unthinking when he runs into the restaurant, catching a brief glimpse of Spock as he ascends the stairs.

He wants to know. Wants to know everything about the Vulcan, wants to ask _how did you know it was Classical music_ , wants to say _were you a teenage rebel, the half-human who was tortured for his heritage_?

He runs up the stairs and every footfall is a memory.

_“Leaving me behind will significantly increase your chances of survival, Doctor.”_

A step. A step.

_“Of course I care, Leonard. I always assumed my respect for you was clear. The dialogue we have had across the years has always...”_

He skids behind Spock as the man opens the door to the room.

Spock barely turns, half facing Bones, eyes widening a fraction of an inch.

_“Doctor, please.”_

Bones crowds Spock into the room, shutting the door behind him.

“Doctor, what-,”

He can’t think because he knows if he does nothing will ever happen, they’ll just continue this awkward dance, and at least if he tries and fails he’ll be able to hide in medbay forever.

So he doesn’t let Spock finish because his hands are linked behind the neck of the half-Vulcan, half-human, _whole person_ and then Bones is pulling him forward and down ever so slightly ( _one inch is less than two, Jim, stop laughing!_ ) with the force of a hurricane because he _can’t stop_.

He hasn’t kissed anyone in God knows how long but he isn’t thinking about that, blessedly- he’s only thinking that he _needs_ something to happen, _needs_ this tension to come to a close.

When their lips connect, he almost gasps, feeling something like a million bee stings all across his body. He thinks he should be put off by that, only remembers kisses like drugs. Dimly he wonders if this is something else, something new. The sharpness changes then, the pain and shock morphing into something that reaches a crescendo in his rushing ears.

It bursts like a water balloon and then Bones _does_ gasp, the warmth of the mouth against his mirrored in the connection he suddenly feels in his mind. Of course.

_It’s perfect._

He’s only ever heard about mind-melding. He’s only heard secondhand stories, what’s in medical journals. His scientific doctor-mind has always been curious, though, however much he valued his privacy.

This, because Bones _knows_ it’s a mind-meld, is what he thinks truly being one feels like.

“Doctor,” Spock mumbles against his mouth but Bones presses closer, hanging on, trying to capture the moment.

Their link is indescribable. It’s warm and dry and soft like a blanket in the winter _._ It feels comforting. It feels like _home_.

And Spock’s mind. His mind is so _bright_ , a watercolor of emotions and thoughts all blending into each other. Bones wants to cry, can’t imagine how he would have expected sterile white labs because the dotted landscape of wildflowers in his mind is beyond description. It is beauty, simple and pure, and Bones wonders if this is Vulcan and if it is he wants to cry even more for the loss.

Spock pulls away and Bones breathes deeply, knowing his face is flushed and his eyes are wide.

“Why-?” Spock tries but his voice breaks on the word, as shaky as his composure seems.

“You know why, you pointy-eared bastard,” Bones laughs, breathless. He tangles a hand in Spock’s brilliantly messy hair, pleased at the disrupted order. “You know now.”

The second time, it’s Spock that leans down, soft and tentative as his hands explore Bones’ arms. He’s careful, _so careful,_ and Bones wants to thank him because he isn’t sure what he can handle, doesn’t know what to do with his heart spread open and on display, sensitive to every touch.

They break apart for air and Bones blinks, hazy, leaning against the wall. Spock’s forehead is leaning against the wall, lips warm and close to Bone’s cheek.

“You should probably use my first name,” Bones jokes, rubbing his eyes.

 _Is this happening?_ He feels their connection thrum, weathered like hemp in his hands. It feels safe. Sturdy. Like an anchor in the sea.

“Leonard,” Spock murmurs, low, right next to his ear.

Bones shivers, turning his head.

“Yeah?”

“It is happening. And I am glad for it,” Spock smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> I offered, you asked. Here it is! I hope you enjoy. I wanted to use the same concept while showing how things could have gone the other way. Hopefully it worked out well.


End file.
